


Midnight Masquerade

by FalseRoar



Series: Can You Wake Up? [16]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Goodbyes, Humor, Magic, Mark Fischbach Egos, Memory Alteration, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Sean McLoughlin Egos, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 15:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20584535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseRoar/pseuds/FalseRoar
Summary: In which (Actor) Mark puts on a masquerade with the help of Jack and their combined egos. It’s to be a night of fun, dancing, and mystery, even without the arrival of a certain unexpected guest.Note: Near the end there is a reference to the song “Remember Me” from Coco, and the version I had in mind is the cover by The Hound + The Fox, if only because it had a nice blend of slow and fast (the original version is awesome, but might be a little too upbeat here). This is also the last planned story for the Can You Wake Up series and makes references to many of the stories that have come before.





	Midnight Masquerade

When you arrived at the dance hall with Amy, Tyler, and Ethan, the four of you found the massive room already bustling with activity as Mark, Jack, and almost all of their egos finished up their share of last-minute preparations before the guests arrived. Said room looked more like a ballroom from an overblown Victorian-style mansion than some place they had rented for the night, with vaulted ceilings, shining floors, (faux) marble columns, doors that swung out onto balconies that overlooked the hillside and the city down below, the whole nine yards.

The stage on the far side of the room looked almost out of place with the microphone stands and the DJ equipment, not to mention all of the speakers strewn up around the place which the Googles were doing final sound checks on while you and the others walked over to the long tables just inside the entrance where a couple of egos were arguing over arrangements.

“This should be the last of the masks,” Amy said as you and Tyler put your boxes down on the nearby chairs, as there wasn’t any room left on the tables for them. “Definitely more than enough for everyone who’s coming and then some.”

“I hope so,” Tyler muttered, rolling his arm as he straightened up. “If we left anything else back at the house it can just stay there, because I am not going back again.”

“What?” Ethan asked sarcastically. “You don’t want to sing along to Disney songs in traffic for another hour or two? Who even needs to go to a dance?”

“Oooh, let’s see what we’ve got in here,” Randal said as he ripped open one of the boxes to reveal a stack of masks in various styles and colors. Even a quick glance at the table told you there didn’t appear to be any two that were obviously the same, which was apparently making sorting and laying them out difficult, to judge by the argument currently going on between Bim Trimmer, Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, and Ed Edgar.

“It only makes sense to arrange by zhe size,” the doctor said, placing his hands on his hips even as Bim shook his head. “Who cares if it’s red or blue if it doesn’t cover your face right?”

“Okay,_ clearly _you don’t understand anything about color coordination,” Bim said, gesturing toward the doctor’s suit and earning a gasp in return, “But most people are going to want a mask that matches their style, that’s why we need to have warm colors on this end, cool colors on that end, and fashion tragedies such as yourself over in the corner.”

“How dare you! I am dressing very snazzy!”

“Pft, sure, you’re really stretching out of your comfort zone with that white suit,” Bim said, getting a simultaneous _“oooh”_ from both Tyler and Ethan. “Did you leave your surgical mask at home, or do you think that will be enough to cover your face?”

“Vhy you—”

“Okay, maybe you two need to walk away and leave this to someone else,” you suggested, inserting yourself between them before Schneeplestein could think of a comeback or, more likely, smack the game show host. “I’m sure either way would work just fine.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is here,” Ed rumbled. He reached into the box Randal opened and grabbed a bunch of masks, which he promptly dumped into the middle of the pile to Bim and the doctor’s obvious horror. “They’re just going to get tossed around anyways, why not let people dig around for the one they want?”

“Okay, how about no,” Bim said, snatching the box away from the salesman’s hands before he could do any more damage.

“Zhis is not some rummage sale,” Schneeplestein agreed, already trying to gather up the masks and at least lay them out so they were all clearly visible. “Zhis is a classy event for charity, Mr. Edgar. Ve do not want people spending all night digging around for masks!”

“I don’t know, I think just seeing what you can find is part of the fun,” Amy said as she picked up a butterfly eye mask and held it up to her face with a smile. “Ed and Y/N are right, don’t get too caught up in overthinking it. After all, the guests are going to be here soon, so you’re not going to have time to organize them all.”

She immediately put the butterfly mask down and reached for another, crying out, “Oh, is this an alien one? Look at the big eyes!”

“I like the colors in this one,” Tyler said, tilting a full-face mask this way and that so that it caught the light. “What about you, Y/N? See any you like?”

You hesitated and Bim added, “You could certainly use some more color in your outfit. Your suit is about as basic as it can get.”

You shrugged as you looked down at the suit in question. He was right, it was a basic black suit with a white shirt underneath, one that Mark paid the rental fee on without even asking, which was embarrassing enough. Amy had also offered to help you pick out a dress if you preferred that instead, but you gave basically the same answer then that you did now, which was, “I wasn’t sure what…I would be comfortable with tonight. I’ll think about the mask and pick something out later.”

“Everyone else will be here soon,” Ethan reminded you. “You need to pick something out before all the good ones are gone!”

“Trimmer is right about the color,” Schneeplestein said. “Look around! Vhy, even Darkiplier is vearing more color than you!”

At his gesture, you turned to see the man in question walking in your direction, alongside an ego who looked uncomfortable in his suit with the red checkered shirt underneath it, judging by the way his hands were shoved into his pockets and the turn of his muttering mouth. The Host’s usual white bandages were hidden underneath a scarlet blindfold around his eyes which had the added benefit of hiding any stains that might appear over the night. Oddly enough, he actually matched Dark, whose jacket had a brilliant crimson lining clearly visible as he stopped to take in you and the other new arrivals.

“Evelien requires your assistance in the dressing room,” Dark said to Amy, his tone far more polite than you had ever heard him use around the others. Or maybe more embarrassed, as he continued, “We’re not entirely sure what’s wrong, but we think it involves a zipper.”

“On my way,” Amy said, immediately dropping the mask and running toward the side doors as fast as she could in her dress shoes.

Once she was out of earshot, Tyler looked around and said, “Okay, I’ll ask if no one else will: why is he here again?”

Dark narrowed his eyes at the gesture towards himself but spoke with an unerring calm. “I was invited, _Benjamin_, as you well know. And, unlike several others I could mention in this room right now, I have never in fact killed anyone, so I am uncertain why my particular presence should bother you.”

“You literally terrorized us for years after the manor.”

“’Us,’ being Markiplier, for very valid reasons I might add.”

“Not just Mark. Even people who had literally nothing to do with what happened, like Bob and Wade—”

“I merely wished to have a discussion with them, as it was clear Mark wasn’t being entirely…upfront about his past. It is not my fault they did not handle their time in my realm well.”

You made a noise at that, and he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, I could have anticipated that, but I had nothing to do with them winding up locked in a utility closet, that was all Wade.” There were a few nods to that, as even those who weren’t around at the time could see that happening, and Dark continued, “As I have said before, I have no intention of harming anyone tonight, least of all the guests.”

“Yeah, Tyler, don’t worry about it,” Ethan said, throwing an arm around Dark’s shoulders. “Dark’s just a big ol’ pussy!”

“I will break your arm if you do not remove it at once, Nestor.”

“The Host reminds Darkiplier that he promised to keep his…presence in check this night, lest any electrical interference be attributed to a certain other ego.”

“…I am well aware,” Dark said as he grabbed Ethan’s sleeve between two fingers and let it drop like a piece of trash.

Schneeplestein shuddered at even the veiled reference to Anti and you thought it might be a good time to change the subject.

“I like your suit, Host,” you said, and the ego immediately ducked his head.

“The Host thanks Y/N, even if this is…outside of his comfort zone,” he said, shoving his hands even further inside of his pockets. “The Host came over to let Bim Trimmer and Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein know that he is more than capable of taking care of the mask table for the duration of the dance, if they wish to focus their attentions elsewhere.”

“Thanks,” Bim said. He rubbed at the back of his neck as he admitted, “I was afraid to say anything in case I got stuck with it, but someone needs to be here when the guests come in.”

“Wait, you’re going to be here the whole night?” you asked the Host. “Don’t you want to enjoy the dance too?”

“The Host is not much of a dancer, and he would prefer to be useful rather than sit alone in a corner,” the Host responded. When you opened your mouth to argue, the Host smiled and added, “Besides, the Host is looking forward to talking to the fans, which will be easier for him here.”

“Oh,” you said as it clicked. You suspected that most of the egos had moved to supporting Mark’s idea for this masquerade thing when they realized the same thing: it would give them a chance to meet some of the fans whose love and attention kept them real, and spread that excitement through the rest of the community. Not to mention that all of the tickets sold or given out through multiple raffles were raising a lot of money for charity.

This was a special night for the egos, and not just because it was an excuse to dress up and don silly or extravagant masks.

“Speaking of the fans, showtime’s going to start soon,” Ed said, checking his watch. “Come on, Randal, let’s give everyone a head’s up to get their masks before the rush starts.”

The younger ego nodded and jumped up to join him as they walked toward another group of egos with a box of masks in tow, as if they didn’t have a combined indoor voice that could be heard by everyone in the room.

“I…need to go see Bob and Wade,” Ethan said, waving a seriously creepy mask that was almost all eyes and teeth as he added, “For reasons.”

Tyler snorted and followed to see how that would go and you looked around the room again. With all of the egos running around it was difficult to pick out any one in particular, so you asked aloud, “Do any of you know where Marvin is?”

“Why?” Dark asked, immediately suspicious.

You met his stare and said, “He said he was bringing a tie I could borrow for the night.”

“The magician is in one of the back rooms, going through his case of supplies for tonight,” the Host answered as he settled into one of the chairs behind the mask table. “He is considering which of his tricks might be amusing for any interested fans.”

“The answer being none, I’m sure,” Dark muttered.

“Oh, I know where he is,” Schneeplestein said. “Please, let me show you.”

“Thanks, Schneeps,” you said, taking his offered arm and doing your best to ignore Dark’s suspicious glare. Fortunately, he did not choose to follow you and the doctor across the floor and past the stage, where Mark was going over the rules for tonight with the DJ.

“And stick to the list,” he was saying as you approached. “This is supposed to be a formal dance, not a never-ending loop of ‘Déjà vu.’”

The android behind the equipment, who had skipped a jacket in favor of just a flashy orange vest that showed off his arms, shrugged and said, “If you say so, but, like, I gotta play the ‘Cha Cha Slide’ at least once. It’s the DJ code, dude, no getting around it.”

“There’s no such thing as the DJ code,” Mark answered.

Bing’s mouth dropped open and his sunglasses slipped. “Dude! Don’t disrespect my culture like that!”

“You’re—I can’t…” Mark sighed, hand to his face until he recovered and said, “You know what, _fine_, you get one hour of requests. That means someone has to actually want you to play the song, otherwise you stick to the list. Got it?”

“Sah, dude!”

“Sweet!” Mark jumped, not realizing he wasn’t the only one on the stage until the man next to him was there, handing a sheet of paper to Bing. “I’ve already got a list, starting with ‘Ocean Man’ and going all the way to ‘All Star’ and ‘Despacito.’”

“Dude!”

Mark flinched at the high five the two shared and said, “Okay, Chase, I get—”

He stopped short when he heard your barely restrained laugh and then saw the expression on Jack’s face.

“Really Mark?” he asked.

“I…meant Seán?” Mark said, and Jack shook his head in mock disappointment. “Look, it’s not my fault you two look the same!”

In unison, Jack, Bing, and Dr. Schneeplestein gave gasps of shock and Jack said, “Come on man, we’re not even wearing the masks yet and you’re already losing track of who’s who. Get it together, Mark.”

“It’s not just me, Y/N, you see it two, right?” Mark asked. “How are you supposed to tell which one’s Chase?”

“Um, I’m pretty sure he’s the one standing on Jackieboy Man and Silver Shepherd’s shoulders to hang up those streamers over there,” you said, pointing at the figure barely keeping his balance across the room.

“Ah, crap, I should probably stop that before someone gets hurt,” Jack said before he jumped down the stage and ran over to intervene.

“See, acting exactly like a concerned dad,” Mark said, gesturing toward the retreating figure and earning a middle finger in return. He shrugged and crouched down so that on the stage he was closer to eye level as he asked, “So are we going to see you out on the dance floor tonight, Y/N?”

“I am making zero promises,” you answered without hesitation.

He laughed and said, “We’ll see about that. You picked out a mask yet?”

“Soon,” you answered. “…But seriously, why masks? After…you know…”

Mark shuddered and just for a second his face clouded over, but he recovered quickly enough. “I had this idea long before that, and, well, it still seemed like a fun idea to get the community together and raise money for a good cause at the same time. Why let that _thing_ ruin the chance to do some good?”

“And a chance to be a little melodramatic?” you asked.

“Why stop at a little?” Mark asked with a grin as he jumped down from the stage. “I want this to be a night to remember, for the fans and for all of us too. Don’t you?”

_“Yes,”_ you said, with more feeling than you meant to, but Mark didn’t seem to notice. In fact, his eyes shifted to over your shoulder just before you heard a familiar voice:

“…Hey.”

You turned around but your response turned into a confused, “…JJ?”

Jameson Jackson winked and held up a recording device before pressing another button, only to get a loud, “TOP O’ THE MORNIN’ TO YA!” that made him jump, one hand to his heart. A second try had the device say, “Jameson Jackson, at your service!”

“Aw, that’s so cool!” you said, and Jameson’s grin grew that much wider.

“He’s been playing vith it all day,” Schneeplestein said with a smile. “Jack and zhe rest of us made it for him for tonight.”

Jameson played another audio clip and this time it was Schneeplestein’s voice, declaring, “I am zhe good doctor!”

“Zhis way he can join in zhe fun of zhe masks and pretending to be everyone else,” Dr. Schneeplestein explained.

“I love it,” you said, deciding not to point out the flaw in that logic for the doctor’s sake.

_“Plus it means no distracting speech slides,”_ Jameson added, nodding as everyone within “earshot” blinked as the speech slides appeared before their eyes. He chose another audio clip to add, “This is going to be so much fun!”

“See, getting into the spirit of things already,” Mark said, throwing an arm around Jameson’s shoulders. With a tone that suggested he had practiced this particular line several times, he added, “Part of the fun of a masquerade is hiding your identity and seeing how well we all know each beyond just the faces we put on every day.”

“Well, as ominous and foreboding as _that_ sounds,” you said, ignoring Mark as he sputtered with indignation, “First I need to go see a magician about a tie.”

“Don’t take too long,” Mark called after you and the doctor as you passed through the door near the stage and into the back hallway that ran in either direction.

With the doctor to guide you, you soon found your way to a storage room where Marvin was sitting on a large case and going through some playing cards when you walked in.

“There you are!” Marvin said, jumping up at the sound of the door opening. He smiled and glanced at the doctor, who waved before heading back to the main area. Once he was sure Henrik was out of earshot, Marvin’s smile slipped and his bright eyes looked you up and down from behind a fancier version of his usual cat mask. He was dressed up in a vibrant blue suit, so dark as to almost appear black until the light caught it just right, with green accents on the sleeves and lapels, but it still felt like only a small variation from his usual dress style.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “We don’t have to—”

“I’m sure,” you interrupted, but you admitted, “I’m nervous, but…”

“But this is important to you,” he finished when you trailed off and you nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. Marvin almost sighed but caught himself in time. Because as many reservations as he had about this, he did have some idea of how much this meant to you. And, he thought as he placed the silver case he brought with him for tonight on one of the storage boxes, you had come to _him_ for help before anyone else. Instead he said, “You don’t have to worry, Y/N. If you’re right, then I’m sure this will work.”

He had poured more hours than he would ever admit to you into reading every book he could find on the subject, every spell even partially related, every theory, every charm, and it all pointed to the fact that the idea you had come to him with weeks ago was possible. And if you were wrong, then it would just mean he had wasted time on some admittedly interesting research, so no loss there.

The case contained a tie, a small pin, and a few other things Marvin didn’t think it was important for you to see, at least not yet.

“Basically, the spell is worked into the tie,” he explained as he laid out the piece of fabric in question. “Similar to the spell I worked for the Host, except it’s not complete until I tie it. You’ll also need to keep it on you, which shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay,” you said, the word small and almost to yourself. Louder, you said, “Thank you, Marvin, for doing this. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

But you still asked. Marvin had every right to believe that every doubt, every idea how this could go wrong, must have passed through your mind just as easily as his, but you still wanted to try.

Which is why he put on a confident grin and said, “Nothing for a master magician like myself. But first, and most important, there’s this.”

He held up the pin so that you could see it was in the shape of a solid white cat with two gleaming green eyes before leaning forward so that he could pin it to your lapel.

“Is this part of the spell?” you asked, head tilted back so you two didn’t butt heads while he pinned it on.

“No, this is completely different,” Marvin said, hoping you didn’t notice how his hands shook and made pinning it that much harder. He faked a grin and said, “I say the right word and this little pin will turn you into a kitty cat.”

He leaned back in time to see you laugh and say, “Depending on how much cleanup there is after the party, I might just let you do it.”

“Or maybe it’s just cute and matches the tie,” Marvin said with a wink. To his relief, you didn’t question it, although that might have been because you were already watching as he picked up the emerald green tie. “Luckily I got to practice tying three neckties already today, so this part should be easy.”

“Three?” you asked.

“Seán and Chase, plus my own,” Marvin answered. “Jackieboy didn’t need one, Schneeps said he’d prefer a clip-on to having something around his neck, and JJ went with his usual bowtie.”

“You’re the resident tie expert?” you asked and he gave a less than humble shrug. “You haven’t said, how long will the spell last?”

“Until midnight,” Marvin answered, and stared when you gave a laugh at that. “What?”

“Midnight, really?” you asked. “Are you trying to make it as dramatic as possible?”

“It’s traditional, and I’ll have you know, drama is very important in working magic,” Marvin insisted. When you gave him a doubtful look, he admitted, “Plus that’s when the ball is officially over, so it seemed like a good end time.”

“You and Mark should really talk sometime, I think you’d get along if you both gave it a chance,” you said as he began to run his fingers up and down the fabric of the tie, whispering to himself as he did so. “Then again, I’m afraid what you two might come up with if left to yourselves.”

Marvin glanced up and flashed a brief grin before he could stop himself. “That’s probably fair. Are you ready?”

You nodded and leaned forward, head tilted to make it easier for Marvin to turn up your collar and loop the tie around it. As he did so, a last-minute question occurred to you.

“Will I remember…?”

“Probably not,” Marvin answered. “Some things might slip through, but until midnight it will just be like you’re asleep. Dreaming, maybe, but it’ll be over before you know it. Promise.”

You returned his smile, maybe out of reflex Marvin wasn’t sure, and he focused his attention on the tie. As he said, most of the heavy work had already been done, and now it was a matter of will as he carefully created a knot and slid it up into place at the base of your throat. He felt the spell take hold and his eyes flickered up toward your face.

He didn’t expect to see any difference and more than a part of him hoped that it might not work at all, but he was startled that this close he could see the flicker in your eyes before you closed them.

And the District Attorney opened them.

The District Attorney blinked slowly and then stared down at your—their body with a sharp inhale. They started to lift their hands only for the left to stop short on the way up, held back by a handcuff linking their wrist to the handle of a nearby storage locker.

“I—” They paused as though surprised at the sound of their own voice and a flurry of emotions crossed their face, too fast for Marvin to parse.

How long _had_ it been, since they last spoke to someone else?

“I’m impressed,” they admitted once they recovered, turning their eyes from the handcuffs to the magician. “I didn’t even notice you doing that.”

“Sleight of hand is fun like that,” Marvin said over the scrape of the chair he pulled into place before taking a seat with his legs crossed. “Before anything else happens, I have some questions for you.”

The District Attorney took in the way those bright blue eyes narrowed behind the mask and the cross of his arms, but also the way his foot made quick, nervous motions in the air.

“…It’s Marvin, isn’t it?”

“You know my name?” The magician couldn’t hide his surprise. Marvin had assumed that the District Attorney would have as much trouble accessing your memories as you did trying to remember anything before the mirror. Actually, he had also assumed that the way you talked about the District Attorney as a separate person was just a way of coping with your lost memories, and that theory wasn’t looking too great either.

“Y/N, the one you know, isn’t trying to hide their memories from me. They’re…distant, like watching through someone else’s eyes, but they’re there.” The District Attorney put their free hand to their chest, where they could still feel your presence. Quiet, “sleeping,” but still very much there. A brief, soft smile crossed their face, giving them the patience to look at Marvin and ask, “What is it that you want to know?”

So much. Marvin’s mind was already spinning with theories on how you and the District Attorney could have become like this, two fragments of the same person. He had considered it of course, it was the whole basis for how the spell worked, but now he had so many questions. When did “you” first appear? Was it a side effect from all of those years in the house? Was it when Mark took a piece from the mirror? But there were more pressing concerns that he needed to focus on first.

“You gave Y/N the idea for this spell, didn’t you?”

“Correct.” The District Attorney attempted to lean against the storage locker, but there seemed to be no comfortable way of doing that. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t easy considering we can’t exactly talk face to face, but I’ve found I can have some influence in their dreams, and even then it was a long shot. I’m surprised you performed the spell, considering.”

“Just because I don’t immediately trust you?”

“I was thinking more because you seem to prefer using the same spells over and over again.” The District Attorney’s voice grew sharper as they added, “Speaking of, could you knock it off with the shrinking spells? Y/N has _literally _had nightmares where they’re tiny now.”

“…I’ll consider it,” Marvin said. The DA raised an eyebrow and he said, “Fine, no more making Y/N tiny…_Spoilsport_.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, let’s get back to you. Why tonight? Why do you suddenly want to come back tonight of all nights?”

“This isn’t some sudden thing. I’ve had nothing but time to consider this.” The District Attorney shifted their weight, but the magician made no move to offer them a seat. “I have some things I want to say, and questions of my own I want to ask for myself. Y/N is the one who thought tonight would be best, with everyone in one place.”

They looked down at their suit and tugged at their collar before saying, “I’ll admit that I’m not too thrilled at the idea of a dance. Or this tie. Can I—?”

“Don’t touch it!”

They stopped just short of adjusting the tie and stared at Marvin. “Why?”

“So you just want to talk to some people? That’s all?”

“Yes. I don’t know what else you think I would have in mind, but that’s all. I want to make the best possible use of the _limited_ time I have.”

“Forgive me for not immediately trusting someone just because they’re wearing a friendly face.” Marvin stood up and paced close to the District Attorney, his eyes locking with theirs. “Whatever you need to do, I want it done by midnight, do you understand? And then we get our Y/N back.”

“That’s all I—” The District Attorney stopped short and Marvin froze in the act of getting out the handcuff key when he heard the quiet anger in their voice. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No,” Marvin said, but they saw the flicker in his eyes as he glanced at their face and back to the handcuffs.

“Is it the tie? Or something about the spell—” The DA’s eyes narrowed when they saw the tell. _“What’s wrong with the spell?”_

“Nothing! It’s working fine, it let you take control of Y/N’s body like it was supposed to, and at midnight they’ll have the chance to take it back.”

“The _chance?_ What does that mean?”

Marvin quickly stepped back out of arm’s reach before explaining, “The closest I could find to your…situation was two spirits or hearts or whatever you call it in one body. The original spell was designed for, well, possessions.”

The District Attorney was silent as this sank in, not visibly reacting except for their restrained hand, which pressed so hard against the steel binding it that there would soon be a mark on their wrist if they weren’t careful.

“The tie works to safely suppress Y/N, giving you an opportunity to take over. At midnight the suppression wears off, but if you were to resist…”

“There’s the chance I could stay in control,” they finished. Between the two of you, the DA was the older one, the original from which you “split off” to form your own memories, your own heart as Marvin called it. The District Attorney had been their own person before the manor, but you were formed on the other side of the mirror—you weren’t made for this world, not on your own. There was no doubt who was the “stronger” of the two of you, looking at it that way.

“That’s not what you told them.”

“I…” Marvin faltered under their glare.

“How could you not tell them?!”

“Do you really think it would have changed their mind?” Marvin snapped back, his voice rising to match theirs. “You can see their memories, would _anything_ I said have changed their minds?”

“I…” This time it was the DA’s turn to grasp for words.

“They trust you,” Marvin muttered as he took their hand and unlocked the handcuffs. “Which is the only reason I’m doing this.”

He tightened his grip on their wrist as he looked them in the eye, his eyes like cold ice as he added, “But you better believe I will get them back at midnight, whether you’re ready to leave or not. So take care of what you need to before then, understand?”

“…I understand,” the District Attorney said, not looking away. When Marvin released their wrist and turned away, he was surprised again when they added, “Thank you.”

“Like I said, I’m doing this for Y/N,” he answered as he went to the silver case and snapped it shut before making it disappear with a snap of his fingers.

“Thank you for looking out for them.”

Marvin had no answer for that, so he gave a mute shrug and motioned for them to follow him out of the storage closet. It was a silent walk back the way they came, but when he opened the door to the ballroom, they were both greeted by a flurry of voices and low but upbeat music. A steady stream of guests entered on the opposite side, and a sizable crowd was already milling around waiting for the ball to officially start.

“You’ll need a mask,” he said, leading the way across the room.

“Why?” they asked, and he glanced back at the tone in their voice in time to see their distaste as they looked around the room. “Who thought this was a good idea?”

“Your old friend Mark did,” he answered and was rewarded by the flurry of conflicting emotions that sped across the DA’s face before they could collect themselves.

Well, that was interesting.

“Besides, it’s required,” he said. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you’re not wearing one.”

They muttered something about dramatic idiots and Marvin suppressed a grin. Maybe they weren’t that different from you after all.

By the time they crossed the room, the crowd around the table had started to diminish, but not enough for Marvin to notice who was sitting behind the stack of masks until he heard the narration.

“The Host hands Jeremy a mask that will certainly catch the eye of that particular someone and suggests that if Kiri is interested in a snake motif then she should take a look at the far end of the table where Jackieboy Man is assisting guests. Marvin stops short at the sound of the Host’s voice, but beside him the District Attorney—”

The fans nearest to the table were either too focused on picking out masks or trying to find their friends to notice as the Host rose from his seat, but Marvin still swore he heard the noise in the room dip as he spoke again, his voice low but trembling with anger.

“What has the magician done?”

“Uh, sorry, did you call for me Jackie?” Marvin said, not taking his eyes off of the Host.

“Kind of busy over here bro,” Jackieboy called from the other end of the table, even though he was clearly just posing for a picture with some grinning fans.

“Yeah, yeah, must have just been Jameson, I should…go…”

Then, dropping all efforts at pretending, Marvin turned and sprinted away into the crowd, leaving the District Attorney alone with the Host, whose furious narration was immediately rewarded by a yelp from the magician somewhere in the distance followed by Mark’s voice yelling about spilled punch.

“And then the magician—” The Host stopped short when he felt the pressure of a hand on his arm.

“Don’t, please,” the District Attorney said in his ear. “Y/N asked him to do this, just for tonight.”

The Host pulled away, his face turned toward theirs as though studying them through the red blindfold.

“The Host does not doubt his Y/N would do such a thing, but he does doubt that either Y/N has fully thought through what they have planned for tonight.”

“I just want to talk,” the District Attorney said, even as they felt a sense of unease at the Host’s words. “And I have thought of nothing else for a very, very long time. Our—your Y/N will be back safe and sound at midnight. No one, especially them, is going to get hurt. I promise.”

“The Host asks the District Attorney not to make promises that they have no control over.” Bitterness tinged the ego’s words, even as he added, “…But the Host will—”

He stopped, interrupted by the amplified tap of a finger on the microphone before a voice similar to his own came out of every speaker around the room and the crowd as one turned toward the stage with more than a few cries and shouts.

“Hello everybody, and welcome to the masquerade. I’m Markiplier—”

“And it’s me, the one and only Gaelic Gladiator,” chimed in the man next to _him_ over the crowd’s applause and cheers.

Next to Mark.

The District Attorney stared at him up there on the stage, at the embroidered flowers splashed across the chest and running down the sleeve of his jacket, a dizzying array of colors designed to catch the eye, and at the white partial mask that did nothing to hide the shape of his face or his identity. How he drank in the audience’s attention even as he and Jack spoke about the masquerade, about the charity this was all for, their voices mingling and distant even as the light background music and every clap and laugh grew louder and more distorted.

There were so many people here. Despite the distance between themselves and the nearest guest, the District Attorney was suddenly aware of the press of bodies, the voices murmuring even during the rehearsed speech, the colors glaring against their vision even as the amplified voices caught and grated against their eardrums and this was a mistake, they couldn’t do this, they—

Your presence stirred and the District Attorney felt your concern like a sudden hand reaching out to steady them. They put a hand to their chest and took several long, slow breaths until their heart rate steadied.

_I’m okay_, they thought, and they felt you slipping back into your “sleep.” There was something about the idea of you so ready to step in and protect _them_ that made the District Attorney smile.

For just a moment they caught Mark’s eye and just as quickly looked away. It took several seconds before they realized that the music had returned and that there was movement going on in the center of the dance floor.

The masquerade had officially begun.

Turning back to the masks and the Host, they couldn’t help but notice just how much he looked like Mark. It had been easy enough to ignore with the red blindfold around his eyes, but looking around the room they could see several other identical faces partially hidden by various masks.

Of course, they had also noticed how much Marvin resembled his creator despite a few cosmetic differences such as his hair. Even the man sitting at the other end of the table with the vivid red hood and a gilded blue mask was obviously another one of these egos.

_Jackieboy Man_. The name swam up from somewhere in your memories, and the District Attorney clung to it, already knowing how much they would be relying on you throughout the night.

“The Host holds out the mask he set aside for Y/N earlier. He had the other Y/N in mind, but it should still match this Y/N’s enchanted tie if they are interested.”

“…Thank you,” the District Attorney said, wondering if their voice shook as they took the offered mask. It was a half mask that covered the eyes and cheeks, the same emerald green as their tie beneath thin golden lines that radiated from the center like delicate, curling beams of sunlight.

“It is just a mask,” the Host answered, his face turned toward the table where his hands were clasped together. “Markiplier has asked that everyone wear one tonight for an effect that should go over well with the fans, but the District Attorney will see for themselves.”

“For that, but also thank you for taking care of the other me.” The District Attorney closed their eyes and let your memories of the Host wash over them briefly. “Thank you for being their friend.”

The Host seemed momentarily lost for words, judging by the way his mouth opened but nothing came out, not even his usual narration.

“Y/N, the District Attorney, can see our Y/N’s memories,” he said slowly, but before they could confirm that he continued, “Earlier they told Marvin the Magnificent that our Y/N is not hiding any memories from them.”

This time it was the DA’s turn to be surprised. “You—Yes, that’s correct.”

They could see the thread connecting one thought to the other in the Host’s narration, but they still weren’t prepared for the accusation in the Host’s voice as he said, “But Y/N cannot access the District Attorney’s memories unless that Y/N allows it. Because it is the District Attorney who is hiding memories.”

“Of course I am,” the District Attorney said and the Host visibly stiffened. “The Host has to know the kind of nightmares Y/N has. What just the memories of our time in the manor has done to them. If it were up to me…I don’t want to share anything with them that might hurt them any more than they already have been.”

“Even memories of Markiplier and Dam—”

“_Especially_ those,” the District Attorney interrupted. They heard the anger in their own voice and added in a much more measured tone, “At least, not all of them, not yet. I don’t…I just want to be careful what I share with them. Sometimes even the good memories can do more harm than good.”

“It is not the Host’s place to comment on Y/N’s memories, so he will not,” the Host said, his clasped hands gripping each other tightly as he added, “But the Host wishes Y/N to know that he will be ready when they need him.”

“You mean ‘if.’”

The Host did not respond, instead turning his face toward a fan that had walked up to the table beside the District Attorney as though to suggest this conversation was over. The DA stepped away but couldn’t resist looking over their shoulder at the ego again before they shook off what he said and put on the mask.

At first the DA strayed around the edges of the crowd, watching as egos, fans, and creators danced together or stood around in small clumps, trying to hold conversations over the sound of the beating music with varying degrees of success. Gradually the tension in their body eased and they began to focus on the individual persons, searching for any sign of familiar to you faces beneath the masks.

But they were spotted first and a voice straight from their past asked, “Y/N, is that you?”

The Detective. He was wearing a mask, a simple black domino mask whose only contribution to hiding his identity was the fact that it actually matched his suit, and a frown as he leaned forward to get a better look at them before smiling as though satisfied. “Good to see you, Partner. I was starting to think I wouldn’t find you in this madhouse.”

“It’s good to see you too, Detective.”

The change in Abe’s posture was instantaneous, like a wire being pulled tight. Eyes blazed behind the mask as his hand went into his jacket and he said, “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m—” The District Attorney lunged forward and grabbed his wrist before he could draw it out of his jacket and tried to keep their voice down as much as possible as they asked, “Why did you bring a gun to a party?!”

“Considering how the _last_ time I went to one of Mark’s parties turned out, why wouldn’t I?” Abe asked, but he released his grip on the gun hidden under his jacket and grabbed their wrist instead. “And you better start answering my question, pal.”

“I am Y/N, just…just not the one you’re thinking of.” The District Attorney sighed and tugged their gripped wrist in the direction of one of the empty tables. “This is going to take some time to explain.”

Abe sat back in his chair and studied them the entire time they spoke, and when they were done he shook his head and said, “You really expect me to believe there’s two of you in there?”

“In essence, yes. I think it’s safe to say that it’s the ‘other me’ you are familiar with and know by this point. After all, they’re the one who’s been your partner for over a year now, compared to the single weekend we knew each other.”

“Which would make you—you’re the one who…”

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault, Detective.” The District Attorney spoke quickly to cut him off before he could follow that train of thought too far, but they looked down, their gaze on their hands fidgeting on top of the table. “I don’t know if you know that, but just in case. And I’ve wanted to say thank you for choosing me to be your partner, for as short a time as it may have been.”

When they looked up, they saw the tears in the Detective’s eyes before he coughed and looked away.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I…” He gave up and shook his head. “Thank you.”

“And I know the other Y/N enjoys their time with you as well,” the District Attorney added, revealing a rare grin.

“Okay, look, I’m already crying, just stop already,” Abe said, but his smile faded slightly as he studied their face again. “What happens to you at midnight? When the spell ends?”

The DA shrugged. “Things will go back to the way they were before. For me, it’s like…being asleep, I suppose, except I have some awareness of what’s going on with the other me. The important things come through, at least.”

They had chosen to leave out Marvin’s warning, for the Detective’s own peace of mind.

“That’s…” Abe trailed off, unable to find the words.

How could they look so okay with that?

Before he could protest, two masked individuals approached from the crowd and stopped at their table.

“You two aren’t just going to sit here all night, are you?” asked the one on the left, the one wearing a butterfly mask emblazoned with bright colors that shimmered with the lights.

The District Attorney hesitated, just long enough for your memories to resurface. “It’s…Amy, right?”

“Got it in one!” she said with a laugh. She pulled out the chair next to them and sat down while gesturing at her mask. “I’d wanted to get the alien one, but it was gone by the time I got back.”

“Sorry about that,” said the second woman, who took another empty chair and sat back with a sigh. “The stupid zipper on this dress hasn’t worked right since Jackieboy tried to take it for a spin.”

“I…what?” the District Attorney asked. “We are talking about the superhero, correct?”

Evelien sighed. “Yeah. Yandereplier started it, trying to talk you into wearing a dress tonight, and next thing I know Jackie’s seeing how he looks in one. I took him back to the store so he could get his own dress, and Schneeplestein helped him sew the hood on, but the damage was already done.”

She gestured toward the superhero, who was walking across the floor now, and there were appreciative nods all around the table and a low whistle from Abe.

“He definitely has…the build for it,” the District Attorney said.

“Yeah he does,” Amy said. “Oh. Sorry, Evelien—”

“Please, you should have heard Seán when he saw him,” Evelien said with a laugh. “Look at those legs!”

Abe looked between the three of them as the conversation continued, waiting for as long as he could before he blurted out, “Hey, Amy, where’s Mark at?”

The DA visibly froze and sent him a daggered look, but Amy shrugged and looked around.

“I’m not sure. He said something about his jacket, but I didn’t think he would want to miss—”

As if in response to her words, Mark’s amplified voice rose above the crowd and all eyes turned once again to the stage in response to his question.

“Does everyone have their masks?”

A chorus of cheers and shouts greeted him and he smiled as the other person on the stage continued.

“Fantastic! Now we can really have some fun.”

The District Attorney frowned, recognizing Marvin’s suit and mask up on the stage, but before they could wonder what the magician was up to, he raised his hand up and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, all of the lights in the room went out as one, plunging the masquerade into darkness for just a brief second. The DA felt a hand clamp down on their wrist as if to make sure they were still there, but before the crowd could even panic or start making jokes they were all turning to one another with sounds of surprise and delight.

In the darkness, they could now see that their masks glowed as though lit from within, taking on new colors and patterns in the darkness. The colors in their clothes also took on a lesser glow, so that an idea of the person standing next to them could be seen, if not the whole figure.

“Once an hour, at a random time within that hour, we’ll have ourselves a dance in the dark,” Mark said. His partial mask also glowed in the darkness, and the flowers spread across his jacket left iridescent trails as he gestured. “Even we don’t know exactly when they’ll happen, but that’s just part of the fun. So hold on to your masks, and be ready. After all, who knows who you might bump into in the dark?”

The music started again, this time with a very different beat, and the District Attorney found themselves being pulled up out of their chair and in the direction of the dancing masks by Amy, whose butterfly mask was such a bright neon blue now that it left trails in the darkness when she turned to face them.

“Come on, Y/N, move it a little,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t be shy, no one can judge you if they can’t see you.”

The District Attorney blinked and stared at her mask. Did its wings move, or was it just a trick of the light streaming from it?

“I’d beg to differ,” they muttered, but began to move in time to the music all the same. “Amy, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure! Music might make it a little hard though,” she said, her own voice barely audible over the incessant beat.

The District Attorney moved closer and asked, “How have you been doing? You and Mark?”

“Crazy busy! This whole thing didn’t plan itself,” Amy pointed out. “How much does it show?”

“It doesn’t—I mean, I just…” The District Attorney let their voice trail off and get lost in the noise.

“But I wouldn’t trade times like this, or any of these last few years, for the world,” Amy continued. This time, the DA was sure they saw the butterfly on her mask flap its wings and realized the blue was shifting into a vibrant, beaming gold as she looked around the room. “I hope he takes the time to stop and enjoy this. You wouldn’t remember I guess, but when I first met him Mark just…couldn’t look past his work, whether it was the latest video or the next project. Bob and Wade told me they used to come by once a week just to make sure he was still alive and then drag him out for a movie or a game or anything to snap him out of himself. Sometimes he slips back into it, but if this makes sense, it really feels like he’s finally remembered there’s a Mark in the ‘Markiplier.’”

“It really does seem like it,” the District Attorney said quietly, and then raised their voice to be sure Amy could hear as they added, “I know he seems so much happier now than he used to be. He definitely smiles more when he’s with you.”

Amy laughed and pushed at their shoulder, but the District Attorney saw the yellow in their mask tinge pink before the song ended and lights came up again around the room, and in turn the masks dimmed back to their normal colors.

The District Attorney glanced toward the stage, but there was no sign of the magician or Markiplier, only the ego in his likeness handling the music. The next song was just as fast as the first and the District Attorney backed away, saying as they did so, “Thank you, Amy. For everything.”

“Now hold on, that was just one song,” Amy said, her smiled widening just as the District Attorney’s shoulders bumped into a pair of hands waiting to catch them.

“You aren’t trying to run away, are you?” The voice behind them sounded like the magician, and when they looked over their shoulder it was the same face, but your memories immediately offered up the name Jack. Or maybe it was Seán? “Come on, Y/N, let’s see you shake those hips!”

“Excuse you?”

“Here, just move like this,” Evelien added as she walked up, the Detective in tow and looking about as thrilled as the DA.

The District Attorney watched Evelien and Jack dance for a few seconds, during which they both tried to outdo each other while not breaking down into giggles as their moves became more and more ridiculous.

“How do I pass?” they said eventually, but Amy took hold of their hands and began pulling them back and forth until they were forced to move their feet. They shot a look at the Detective for help, but he only managed a smirk before he found hands clamping down on _his _shoulders.

“Someone’s not dancing,” Tyler crowed.

“Get your hands off of me, you washed-up butler,” Abe snapped, but he was helpless in the face of Tyler’s might combined with Ethan, Wade, and Bob, who seemed to have formed a roving band with the goal of getting all the dance-shy guests moving and enjoying the fun.

While he tried to evade them, Abe kept an eye on the District Attorney, watching as they, yes, danced (who taught them the cabbage patch?), but also used every chance to talk to the friends you had made over the last year and a half. About what, the Detective couldn’t be sure, but he often caught them staring too long at faces, brow furrowing as though trying to read beneath the surface of what they were saying. And he saw the same words repeated over and over again, so many times that he started to recognize the shape of them on their lips even if he couldn’t hear the sounds over the music:

_Thank you._

The first time he saw them lose their composure was when a slow song came on and one of Mark’s egos tapped them on the shoulder. He saw the way their eyes widened behind the mask, the panic that made them take a step back, but before he could step in they slowly relaxed and said, “…You are…Eric?”

“Uh, y-yeah, it’s me,” Eric said. His bright yellow mask matched the handkerchief in his chest pocket, which he promptly took out to fidget with as he added, “I, uh, sorry if you were, um…Hoping for someone else, but I was…would you…I mean you don’t have to, I just—Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait!” The word slipped out and the District Attorney immediately winced, their hand going to their chest with a grimace before they recovered and continued in their normal, restrained tone, “I’m…not much of a dancer, but sure.”

Eric’s grin, the only part of his face visible beneath the mask, was nervous and hopeful even as he and the District Attorney fumbled in how and where to place their hands before starting a slow, uneven sway much like the other dancers around them.

Abe watched for a moment and then realized he was the only one just standing there amid all of the dancers. More importantly, he had managed to lose Tyler and the others in the dance posse, which meant he was free to leave the floor.

And free to have a talk with a certain magician before midnight.

“I’ve, um, I’ve been practicing but I’m s-still not very good,” Eric mumbled. This close, and he could still barely look them in the eye, only briefly glancing up every now and then in between keeping his gaze firmly on the ground.

“You’re doing fine,” the District Attorney said, and then realized their tone wasn’t exactly encouraging or kind so they tried again. “Just relax. It’s only a dance.”

Eric gave them a bashful smile and the District Attorney could only stare. Even with the mask, he looked so much like Mark. Of course he did, there were over a dozen of them roaming around the room right now, but the idea of this shy, bashful, neurotically nervous person, that any part of him could have come out of _Mark_ of all people was…

“Um, have you, have you been enjoying the, uh…dance? Not the dancing, I mean, I know you don’t like that, but um…everything else?”

“It’s been enlightening so far,” the District Attorney said. They glanced at the clock hanging above the stage and took a deep breath. They could only avoid the inevitable for so long, after all. “Have you seen Marki—Mark anywhere around? I…I need to talk to him after this dance.”

“Um…I think he went backstage a while ago, something about a stain on his jacket?” Eric looked up at the District Attorney and their eyes briefly met. “Is everything…Um, are you okay? You just don’t… Um, never mind, this is stupid, I’m stupid, let’s, uh…How long is this dance?”

“I’m sorry, I just have a lot on my mind,” the District Attorney said. They paused and then gave his shoulder a squeeze as the song came to an end. “And you’re not stupid. Thank you for the dance, Eric. I enjoyed it.”

At that moment the lights went out, plunging the room once more into darkness as an upbeat, borderline funk song came on. The District Attorney wove their way in and out of the crowd in the direction of the stage, too intent on making their way to the back area to notice that a couple of dancers had taken to the stage.

But one of the dancers did notice the mask moving through the crowd out of time to the music and a voice loud and deep enough to be heard over the music called out, “Someone’s a little slow getting into the groove!”

The District Attorney stopped so fast that others around them bumped and jostled them out of the way, but they couldn’t care less. They knew that voice, even without your memories stirring at the familiar baritone, but when they turned toward the stage he was gone, leaving a blank space between the glowing masks.

“Maybe you just need a little encouragement?” he continued and the District Attorney whirled around to stare at the lurid yellow and pink suit that probably didn’t need Marvin’s magic to glow in the dark, at the mask that was a solid white except for the mustache, which was almost as brilliantly pink as the mustache hidden underneath the mask.

_Wilford_, your memories said, but all the District Attorney could hear was the voice of the Colonel, the slurred, manic voice of the man who shot them.

“Come on up, don’t be shy,” Wilford continued without waiting for or needing a response, and suddenly the District Attorney found themselves on the stage with the other dancers even though they had certainly not taken any of the steps leading up to here.

They staggered back but Wilford caught their hand and pulled them away from the edge of the stage with a laugh and a “Not that way!” The next thing the DA knew, they were mimicking the movements of the dance, or at least from what they could see of it in the dark. Their mind moved achingly slow but, eventually, the thought strayed forward that they would have to catch him before he left the stage. This might be their only chance to talk to him tonight, after all, as both your memories and theirs confirmed he wasn’t the easiest person to get a hold of when he didn’t want to be.

As the music slowed, they stopped pretending to dance, and just as the song came to a close and the lights returned they grabbed hold of his candy-striped sleeve.

“Not bad,” Wilford said, pushing his mask up out of the way as he turned to face them. His eyes glittered in the stage lights as he added, “What do you say to another round, for old time’s sake?”

“I—” The District Attorney let go and stepped back, unable to look away from those eyes, their heart thudding like it just took another bullet to the chest. “This was a mistake.”

“Come on, we can work on the dancing!” Wilford called after them as the District Attorney jumped down from the stage and disappeared into the crowd, but he made no move to chase after them and instead turned to the guests on the floor. “Well, anyone else want to volunteer?”

While a suspiciously loud and Irish voice volunteered to go on stage, the District Attorney wove their way in and out of the crowd, looking for the least crowded path to anywhere, just as far away from all of this as possible.

“Y/N!”

They had no idea how many times their name was called before the weight of a hand on their shoulder drew them back into the here and now.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s go over here where it’s quieter, okay?”

They nodded and the hand kept its steady pressure on their back, guiding them through the spinning room and out of the pressing crowd until they were in the back of the room, in the relative privacy and quiet behind one of the fake marble columns.

“Just close your eyes, take deep breaths.”

The District Attorney did as he said, breathing slowly in and out. They felt their panic slowly ebb and fade, but nearly thought they were going to be sick again when they remembered what the magician said about strong emotions passing through to you in your “sleep.” They could still feel your presence, closer than and just as comforting as the hand on their upper arm that squeezed gently as he continued to talk them down.

They risked opening their eyes and found them drawn to the flowers scattered across the white jacket in front of them, droplets of colors that ran down the sleeve and up toward the hand on their shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked and the District Attorney looked up at that white partial mask that covered the left side of his face, at the eyes full of concern on the other side. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No…” They took a shuddering breath and tried again, “No, I just…need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need, Y/N,” he said with a gentle smile. “There’s no rush.”

They might have laughed at the irony of that if they weren’t studying the visible portions of his face closely, looking for what they weren’t sure.

“I realize this might not bring up the best memories for you,” he admitted, watching their face just as closely.

“The—Abe said the same thing earlier. About the…other party.”

His hand on their shoulder tightened, briefly, his mouth turning down before he sighed. “It’s a shame you can’t remember the other ones. And there were others, Y/N. Some a little more…rowdier than others, but not all of them ended badly. Like when we celebrated graduating college together and wound up in a field looking up at the stars. We may have overdone it a little on that one, considering I don’t remember exactly how we got there…”

“I would be surprised if you did,” the District Attorney said, uncertain if it was the sudden venom in their voice or the way they slapped his hand off their shoulder that earned them the look of surprise before they continued, “Considering _Mark_ wasn’t there.”

The noise in the room dipped briefly in the pause between one song ending and the next one starting, a silence as Dark’s lips parted but nothing came out.

The District Attorney had no such problem as they reached up and pulled his mask off, only to toss it on the ground so they could see his face when they asked, “Why are you pretending to be Mark? What was the plan here, why would you—_Why?!”_

“You remember.” Dark stared at them, eyes wide and showing no sign that he was listening to a single word. “I thought tonight might jog your memories, but—”

He stopped short, and now it was his turn to pull off the other’s mask. The District Attorney took a step back and their shoulders bumped into the column behind them, but they met Dark’s stare head on with a fury and disgust he recognized. Just not one he had seen outside of your reflection trapped in a mirror.

“You…how…?” Dark’s eyes dropped to the emerald tie around their neck. “The magician. What spell is this? How long will it last?”

“Don’t,” they said, putting out a hand to stop him before he could touch the tie. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Is it permanent?” Dark’s eyes went back up to their face and he quickly took a step back.

“No, it is not,” the DA answered, stressing every word in an attempt to not raise their voice. “At midnight, this body goes back to the other me.”

“Why? Isn’t there some way—”

“Why would you care?”

Dark paused and then straightened his tie, settling back into his more reserved state as he said, “It is of professional interest to me, of course. After all, that looks like a _possession_ spell our dear wannabe warlock has used.”

The District Attorney kept their face carefully blank, not wanting to give Dark the satisfaction of a reaction to that. “Which is exactly why this won’t last.”

“But it could. You could stay here, with us.”

“And the other Y/N?” they asked, feeling their anger reach a new fever pitch at the word ‘us.’ _How dare he say it, how dare he even pretend—_ “What happens to them?”

“…They’re a part of you, you’re the same person,” Dark started, but the District Attorney cut them off.

“No. Because I will tell you right now, if I had been the one to find you bleeding out on the infirmary floor, I would have kept walking.” The District Attorney looked him straight in the eye as they said, “If it were up to me, the other Y/N wouldn’t even remember your name, or Mark, or any of our time in that godforsaken house.”

“…Would you really?” Dark asked softly.

He saw the uncertainty flicker in their eyes, heard the anger recede into bitterness and sadness as they looked away and said, “I would take back every memory I never should have shared with them, if…”

They took a deep, shuddering breath and continued, “But no, we are not the same person.”

_Every memory I never should have shared._ Dark thought of what memories you did have, of those long years spent in the house, in that mirror. Maybe a few other, scattered memories that the District Attorney had either chosen to share with you or that accidentally slipped through whenever they felt a familiar touch or heard a certain phrase. Enough to give you recurring nightmares, enough to make you hide yourself away at the sound of thunder or the crack of lightning.

“Only because you made it that way,” he said. “You chose this, to split your memories in two, to keep everything from them. Maybe we should have been tapping the magician for a way to separate you two instead of forcing you together.”

He thought the sarcasm in his voice was audible, but the District Attorney answered as though they had seriously considered it, “Even if we had a second body, I’m not sure the other Y/N would be able to survive in this reality without me. They were born on the other side of the mirror, after all, and that’s gone.”

“I could always take them off your hands, if you ever find the other you to be a burden.”

“Is that supposed to be a _joke?_”

“I thought that’s what we’re doing now,” Dark said, stepping closer so that he could still be heard over the music even as he lowered his voice. “You are making this harder than it needs to be. If you would just get over your martyrdom complex and let them become a part of you, there wouldn’t be a problem. They’re not going to _die_, they would just become a part of you, like they’re _supposed_ to be!”

He felt his aura straining to be free of the hold he had on it, to grab hold of them until he could force them to see how stupid and petty they were being about all of this and he grabbed the lapels of his borrowed jacket, pulling until the collar pressed into the back of his neck.

The District Attorney stared evenly back at him as they asked, “Just like, say, Celine is a part of you?”

“…What?”

“Celine. What happened to her, when she became a part of you? To—What happened to them? Because maybe they’re still in there somewhere, but they’re not you, not as I knew them. What do you think will happen to the other Y/N, if I took them back? Do you think the last year and a half is enough to even stand up against the pain and heartbreak you and Mark put me through? Remembering the house did enough damage, but to remember you—to remember my friends, what you meant to me, and to have all of those memories, the _best_ memories of my life, tainted and torn apart by what you did? Or I could just leave them buried, safe and away from you while I take control. Is that what you want?”

“Y/N.” Dark breathed their name, the only word that could come to mind as he saw the tears form the in the corner of their eyes.

“_It’s not fair.”_

Dark froze, his hand outstretched as though to wipe away one of those tears. “What did you just say?”

“It’s not fair how much you look like him. Like Damien.” The District Attorney’s hands clenched into fists at the name and they shook their head as though they wished to say more but couldn’t. Instead, they shot forward, brushing hard against Dark’s shoulder on their way past him and back toward the center of the room, muttering something about time.

Dark looked down and realized that he still had their mask in his other hand. He ran his thumb over the green and gold sun design, their words running through his mind until he felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with his aura.

He didn’t see them, but he did see a familiar white cat mask on the far side of the room talking to the Detective. Dark’s eyes narrowed and he strode forward, no longer certain of what he hoped might happen at midnight but very sure of what he intended to do once he had his hands on that magician.

The swelling anger provided a welcome distraction from the worrying thoughts that were piling up, starting with the realization that his words may or may not have had an effect on what the District Attorney planned to do between now and midnight. Combine that with the unwelcome uncertainty of what he even hoped would happen and it turned into something bordering on worry and concern.

Two things he could very much do without, all things considered.

The District Attorney had every intention of getting lost in the crowd, but somewhere along the way the stares from strangers became more and more obvious. A girl who they didn’t recognize and whose face didn’t appear in any of your memories stopped them and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I—” The District Attorney reached up and brushed a sleeve across their eyes only to realize with a jolt what was missing. “Ah, my mask, I—I should go get another one.”

They brushed off the girl and her friends’ well-meaning offer to walk with them and reassured them that they had plenty of people looking out for them tonight. The truth of which the District Attorney was reminded of when they approached the nearly empty mask table, where a small group had gathered around the Host.

“That story was one of the Host’s favorites as well, which is why he—The Host asks for the group’s patience as he steps aside for a moment,” said the ego, stepping away from the group to hold out a mask for the District Attorney. “The Host hopes this new mask is suitable. Unfortunately, there are not a lot of options on the table now.”

“It doesn’t matter,” they muttered, taking the offered mask. It was a full-face mask this time with a simple design of a face split straight down the middle, separating the mask into half gold and half black. “You could have mentioned that Dark would be impersonating Mark.”

“The Host can see possibilities, but they are not a guarantee of future events.”

“Are there any more _possibilities_ I should be aware of?” they asked as they put on the mask.

The Host hesitated, more than long enough for the District Attorney to know he was putting too much thought to his answer. “…Any warning the Host can give will not make this night any easier for Y/N. But he can tell the District Attorney that seeing Mark again will not be easy.”

“I could have guessed that,” they answered with a sigh. “But I still need to talk to him. I—I…”

“Markiplier has replaced his jacket and is making his way back to the party. He will seek out Amy first…” The Host paused, muttering to himself as he sped through his narration before he nodded and said, “The District Attorney can find him at the punch table three songs from now, if they wish to talk to him alone.”

“Thank you,” they said, unable to hide their surprise. They studied the Host’s face under that red blindfold, but could still make nothing of his expression or his thoughts before their eyes strayed to the group behind him. “Fans of yours?”

“Yes, they are,” he said, and the Host could not hide the smile or the pride in his voice. “Some have read his stories, others have listened to them, but they—They were _excited_ to see him, and to see other fans.”

“Then I shouldn’t keep you from them any longer,” the District Attorney said, smiling as well.

The Host wasn’t the only one of the egos thrilled to find fans among the crowd. As the District Attorney walked across the room, they saw two egos wearing matching white jackets giving a very biased poll to any who would answer on just who was the “number one best real doctor,” a puff of green smoke on the side of the room followed by cheering and clapping as the magician apparently pulled off a disappearing act, and Eric Derekson was positively overwhelmed by the supporting fans all around teaching him a dance the DA wasn’t familiar with but your memories seemed to connect with a game of some sort. They even saw an ego with a squirrel mask and a cape thrown over his suit having a very spirited discussion with several fans about someone named Doreen Green and assuring them that he did, in fact, speak fluent squirrelese.

The District Attorney kept moving around, listening to the music while the words they had prepared to say to Mark ran through their mind again and again.

_They could do this._

The District Attorney took a deep breath and walked over to the punch table, where there was a short line for the bowl and the snacks. More people seemed interested in the chairs further down the wall and around the nearby tables, where guests sat with their legs stretched out for a break and where a growing line of shoes suggested some people had rethought the idea of heels for the night. An ego with a bright blue shirt that matched the ‘G’ embroidered on the pocket of his jacket stood impeccably straight near the wall, looking absolutely bored as he watched the table and the immediate area.

_Google_, your memories offered, along with the mental image of not one but four egos. The District Attorney took a closer look around the room and spotted the other three, all with the same bored yet unblinking stare as they stood sentry near the stage and next to the exits.

The one near the table made no sign that he recognized the District Attorney as they approached and ladled out a drink in one of the small plastic cups, although based on your memories they suspected the android wouldn’t have cared much if he did know.

“No one’s spiked this, have they?”

The District Attorney dropped the ladle and just in time caught the handle before the whole thing could slide to the bottom of the bowl.

“No. No foreign substances have been added to the punch or any of the food,” Google answered with a heavy, dull tone. “This has truly been a waste of my capabilities.”

“Considering alcohol could literally kill me, you could say you have the most important job of anyone here,” Mark suggested.

He was right behind them. The District Attorney felt their grip tighten on the cup, threatening to break the weak plastic and send the contents flooding across the white tablecloth.

“Tell me, when I convey to you my combined processing power and the rate at which I can access and transmit the vast stores of data I have access to after each update, which part of that suggests a walking security camera?” Google asked, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he stared past the District Attorney.

“I think I’d have to go with that video you threaten to send to my millions of subscribers every time I put off my Windows update.”

“IT security nightmare,” Google muttered darkly before walking away to take up a new vantage point further down the wall.

This was their chance. There was no one else in the immediate area, just the District Attorney and Mark.

_They could do this._

The District Attorney turned around and felt like all of the wind had been knocked out of them in a single blow that flung them back eighty years to a very different party.

Mark must have felt their stare because he tugged at the lapels of his jacket and said, “What do you think? I had to make a change, and I found this one just lying around backstage. It’s reversible!”

It was a brilliant red except for the black lapels and lining. A memory of Dark’s jacket slipped by but the District Attorney couldn’t acknowledge it, not when all they could see was the exact same Mark from before, down to the way he brushed his hair back and up out of his face before he smiled at them, face only half covered by the white mask that dominated the right side.

The District Attorney backed up, but Mark must have interpreted it as them stepping aside to give him space to get to the punch because now he was standing next to them, chatting easily as he poured out two cups.

“Joke’s on him if he thinks that video’s any more embarrassing than anything I’ve posted myself. Are you enjoying the masquerade? Met anyone yet?” Mark paused long enough to take a sip of one of the punches and, when a reply failed to come, said, “You don’t talk much, do you? It’s okay to admit if you’re one of Seán’s fans, I won’t take it _too _personally.”

“Mark, you—” The District Attorney stopped, their words catching in their throat when he suddenly looked at them with recognition at the sound of their voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

The District Attorney could only give a mute nod in recognition of their name.

“Oh! Well I guess the masks work, huh?” he said, giving an uncomfortable laugh as he studied them more closely now. “Everything okay? Amy and Seán told me about Wilford dragging you up on stage. If you want, we can…um…”

Mark trailed off, aware that there were very few threats he could use against Wilford that the man would take seriously if not outright ignore.

The District Attorney shook their head and found their voice. “No, it was just a bit…much. Are you—are you enjoying the masquerade?”

It wasn’t the question they wanted to ask. But the District Attorney thought they could build to that, to all the words they needed to get off their chest. Until then, as long as Mark still didn’t know who he was talking to, they might as well pretend everything was fine.

“Of course! Seán and I have been working for months to pull this all together and the fans pulled through for us too. Google’s got the final numbers on the charity donations, but it’s more than either of us have ever raised in one go before.” He looked around the room as he spoke, smiling as he added, “And I think they’re all more excited to see their online friends in person than any one of us. Not that any of the egos aren’t getting enough attention to satisfy even them for a while. Everyone’s playing their part.”

“Like actors in a play.” It was subtle, but the District Attorney could see the flicker in Mark’s eyes, the small double take at that choice of words. Before he could respond, they added, “I ran into Dark earlier. He has on your jacket and an almost identical mask.”

It was just like Mark’s, except flipped to cover the opposite side of his face. The District Attorney supposed it was the closest one Dark could find, with no two masks being identical.

“What? He—that—” Mark sputtered as he spun around to look at the rest of the room, as though he expected to find Dark flipping him off somewhere among the dancers. “I knew he shouldn’t have come, I told you he would pull something like this. What the hell is he doing, pretending to be me?!”

At that moment, Dark was posing with a couple of fans for a photo. A fake smile plastered on his face hid his frustration at losing the magician, who’d disappeared at just the sight of him. There were still a couple of fans hanging around in the general area to see if he would finish the act or at least come back for the rabbit, who seemed to be enjoying life outside of the hat.

On the other side of the room, the District Attorney answered, “He seemed to think this party might stir up some memories.”

“…Oh.” Mark paused and made an effort not to sound too eager as he asked, “Has it?”

“Why?” The question slipped out before the District Attorney could stop it, just one of the questions they had been asking themselves again and again for decades. “Why did you invite me to that party?”

“Maybe now isn’t the best time for this…”

“Mark. Why?”

“I—I don’t know. Being in that house, that thing feeding into all of my anger and bitterness, looking back on it now I don’t know what I was thinking. All I cared about was the Colonel and Ce-Celine…” Mark stopped to take a shuddering breath before he looked them in the eye. “Y/N, all I wanted was to make William hurt any way that I could, whatever it took. You don’t even know all of the terrible things that I did, what I could have become if I hadn’t left when I did. Maybe I thought that if a private detective, a mayor, and his district attorney all leave a party saying that a man killed their host, no one would question it. No one would doubt you. What happened to all of you, I—”

“We were just convenient witnesses,” the District Attorney muttered.

“Or maybe—” Mark stopped himself and shook his head. “Whatever the reason, it never should have happened. _None_ of it should have happened, but all I can say is I’m sorry, Y/N. For as little as that’s worth.”

The District Attorney didn’t answer. They just closed their eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on your presence to calm them down.

“Y/N? You never answered me,” Mark said slowly, as though even he wasn’t sure if he was pushing too far. “Do you remember…?”

He left the question hanging there in the air, hopeful and hesitant.

“Maybe it’s like your egos.”

“What?”

“Us. The District Attorney and the Y/N from the mirror. One is the original, and the other is…someone else. Someone with their own memories, their own personality. One who can’t exist without the original. There are similarities, but we’re as much the same person as you and, say, whoever that is flexing by the speaker.”

“Probably the Silver Shepherd,” Mark said, if only because of the silver mask and Jackieboy’s presence near the ego. “Y/N, don’t talk about yourself like that, you’re not some kind of copy or fake—”

“But if it were true? If there were two of us, somehow split apart, then…”

“…It wouldn’t change the memories we do share. Y/N…” Mark put his drinks down and pulled the DA into a hug. “You would still be my friend. I’d still love you, both of you. Even if you don’t understand my flare for the dramatic.”

The District Attorney stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Part of them wanted to lean into the hug, to tell him everything, to spend time with their friend again. But another part of them wanted to push him away, to scream, to tell him apologies and hugs would never be enough to undo what he did to them, to the others, to Damien.

“I can’t do this.”

“What?” Mark asked, but they were already pulling away. He reached out for them, but at that moment the lights went out for the next dark dance.

The sudden darkness surprised the District Attorney as well, and for a moment they and Mark saw each other in the dark. They saw the red jacket, gleaming like blood beneath a partial face that was no longer smooth and white but a spiderweb of cracks out of which spilt light like it could barely be held in. And he saw the green tie that in the dark seemed to swirl with an energy all its own beneath a solid gold mask. And behind and beside the golden mask there was a darker one, moving just out of sync like a delayed shadow, gleaming with an almost violet hue that did not quite blend in with the darkness all around.

It was as though two people sharing the same space looked back at him, before they ducked their heads and turned away. Mark called out, but the District Attorney had already disappeared into the darkness, lost among the other masks. His heart thudded in his ears as the possibility hit him, too much for him to believe or even hope, and too late for him to run after them.

“Google!” Mark realized it was just short of a shrill scream, but it was enough to be heard over the music as a blue ‘G’ lit up near the wall in response. “I need you to help me find someone, _now!”_

“What’s the magic word?” Google asked.

Mark heaved the hugest sigh he could and said, _“Please.”_

“Incorrect. The correct response is ‘magic is an inherently illogical system that does not necessarily convey politeness.’ Please try again.”

Mark’s muffled scream of frustration was drowned out by the music behind the District Attorney as they walked out of a side door to one of the balconies that overlooked the lawn. Leaning hard against the stone railing, they took a deep breath of the heavy summer night air and slowly let it out. Or that was the intent, until their breath hitched and they moved to the corner of the balcony, out of sight of the glass doors where they could sink down and sit there, cheek pressed against the stone railing, and just…not think about anything.

They had a lot of practice at that, from their time alone in the mirror.

They did not notice the click of the door opening, or the footsteps that paused when they were spotted, but they did hear the loud greeting that followed:

“Howdy, bitch!”

The District Attorney jumped and whirled around in time to see Jameson fumbling with his recording device, face aflame as a speech slide appeared in the air between them.

_“Good gracious! That is not what I meant at all, I swear! Who even put that on this confounded device?!”_

Jameson looked up when he heard the laugh that escaped from the District Attorney before they could stop it, and he gave an embarrassed smile before gesturing at the empty ground next to them. _“May I join you?”_

The District Attorney nodded and watched the ego as he brushed off the stone before sitting down with exaggerated care.

_“It is nice to get away from the noise of it all,”_ he commented, his bright blue eyes watching them just as closely. _“But I’m starting to suspect you have a habit of avoiding the dance floor.”_

“Not everyone jumps at the chance to waltz, Mr. Jackson.”

_“Then I must have been a lucky man, to tempt you once,”_ he replied with a wink. _“And it’s Jameson, if you please.”_

“You do remember,” the District Attorney said and his smile widened. They had recognized him through you when he played the song from that night, all those years ago, but as much as they watched him since, as much as they studied your memories and their own, it just didn’t make any sense. How could one of Seán’s egos remember something like that, be the exact image of a man they met decades before Seán was even born but without a voice of his own? “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how you wound up like this.”

Jameson just pressed a finger to his smiling lips and winked in response.

“Can I at least ask why you’re out here and not dancing the night away inside with the others?”

_“A proper gentleman always goes where he’s needed!”_ Jameson declared, and when the District Attorney seemed more than a little skeptical, he added a second speech slide that read, _“Also, I may have overheard the Host talking to himself about you. I don’t think he realized I was there, because…”_

He gestured at the speech slide before it disappeared and shrugged.

The District Attorney wasn’t surprised the Host was keeping a narrative eye on them. They placed a hand to their chest and felt your presence, quiet and hopefully dreaming of better things. For a brief second they considered removing the tie, letting you have the body back early and just being done with all of this, but that would only cause you to worry.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?”

The speech slide nudged its way into view and the District Attorney glanced at Jameson, this strange ego who was also out of place, out of his time.

And, without hesitation, they told him everything. About the tie, about the time limit, about how they had so many things they wanted to say, but even looking at Mark or Dark or Wilford brought back so many memories that it hurt to even be in the same room as them, much less talk to them.

“I thought I was ready, I thought I could finally face them myself, but one look and I just—I can’t…” The District Attorney stopped with a hiccup and sob. They couldn’t remember the last time they cried, much less so many times in one night.

_“Here.”_

Jameson offered them the handkerchief from his chest pocket. When the District Attorney started to refuse, he pressed it into their hands while a second speech slide appeared. _“A proper gentleman always has a handkerchief to hand for just such an occasion!”_

“I guess I’m not much of a proper anything,” the District Attorney said, putting a hand to their own chest pocket while the other dabbed at their eyes with the offered handkerchief. “Nothing here but—”

They paused as their finger brushed against the jacket pocket and found something. They reached inside and pulled out a small piece of paper, doubled over on itself which when unfolded read:

_Tonight is your night. Do what you need to do, but please don’t forget to have some fun!_

The District Attorney wanted to smile, but the note just brought a fresh sting to how much they had messed up the time you gave them.

They blinked as a speech slide appeared before their eyes and read, _“Maybe you don’t have to face them to say what you need to say.”_

“What do you—” The District Attorney stopped mid question when they saw Jameson fiddling with his recording device. He smiled when he caught the look in their eye and another speech slide followed.

_“I watched my brothers set it up. Shouldn’t be too difficult to add another recording or two!”_

“Are you sure? I don’t—”

But he was already showing them the button to press and how to tell when it was recording.

_“Take your time.”_ He pressed a hand on their shoulder as he stood. _“I’ll be waiting by the door when you’re done. After all, the night’s far from over!”_

The District Attorney watched him walk to the door, where he stopped to give them a cheery thumbs up before going back in.

Leaving them alone with the recorder, and with everything they needed to get off their chest.

The District Attorney took a deep breath and pressed the button.

It should not be this hard to find one person, even in a crowd this large. That was the thought that occurred to both Mark and Dark as the night wore on and as the District Attorney proved more elusive than either expected. Every time they thought they were close, it just proved to be yet another dead end.

“This?” one of the fans asked, pointing to the gold and black mask Mark last saw on the DA’s face. “I don’t know, I thought it looked cool so I traded my mask for it. Are we not allowed to do that?”

When Dark asked Jameson, the ego paused in the act of eagerly signing with a couple of fans to shrug, a barely visible speech slide explaining, _“Can’t say I’ve seen them since the ‘Cha Cha Slide’ when the others showed us how to ‘cha cha now y’all!’”_

“Y/N?” Chase said when Google sent Mark his way. “Yeah, we were talking just a few minutes ago with Wade and Bob. Wade thought I was Jack and we were seeing how long it took—”

“Do you know where they went?” Mark interrupted. “What about their mask, what did it look like?”

Chase pulled up his own monster mask to look Mark up and down before he said, “Mark, I understand why you might be worried, but sometimes you just need to let your kid—”

“Brody, if you finish that sentence, I will stuff your tie in your mouth.”

“Have you seen Y/N?” Dark asked during one of the lights out dances, having reached new levels of desperation.

“The Host waits for Dark to see the irony in that question.”

“You know what I mean! Where are they?”

“They are enjoying the masquerade, unlike two men who cannot step back and realize this is not about them. Which is why the Host will not tell Darkiplier where the District Attorney is, just as they refused to tell Markiplier fifteen minutes ago.”

“Because of course you would,” Dark growled. For a brief second two outlines appeared around him in the darkness, red and blue echoes of his form that quickly disappeared when he regained control of himself. “Wait, does that mean Mark knows too?”

The vivid red blindfold was nearly all that was visible of the Host in the darkness as he tilted his head, as though studying Dark. “The Host told him that the spell will end at midnight, just as Darkiplier is already aware. He is employing the Googles to look for Y/N, but they will not relay the information to him in time.”

In the darkness, Mark had come to the same conclusion after one of the Googles directed him to the tables to find that he had, once again, apparently just missed the District Attorney by minutes or possibly even seconds according to Jackie and Silver, who claimed to have broken up a (probably) friendly argument between the DA and Abe that almost ended in a fistfight.

At the suggestion, the android’s eyes took on a red hue that glowed to match his ‘G’ emblem. “Do not blame me for your inferior processing speeds.”

Mark made an inarticulate noise and stormed off, the three egos watching until he was out of earshot.

“Y/N’s not that way, right?” Jackie asked.

“No, I saw them over with Yan and Ethan I think,” Silver answered as he stretched back in his chair, his back popping a little as he did so. “Oof. Not sure what that Detective meant by ‘round two,’ but neither of them was about to pull punches, am I right?”

“The Yellow unit will give Mark an update in…2.5 minutes, depending on Y/N’s status then,” Google declared with a smile. “They have already traded their mask three times since Mark’s last check.”

And so the rest of the masquerade went. Every time Dark or Mark came close to the District Attorney, when they spotted them on the dance floor or chatting with one of your friends, one of the other egos would bump into them or accidentally get in their way and then apologize for a little too long, or one of the random dances would ‘just so happen’ to plunge the room into darkness yet again, to the point even the fans were joking about how short the hours were getting.

Until suddenly it wasn’t just a joke.

Mark gave up on checking his watch when every passing hour just filled him with a new sense of disbelief. There was no way, it had to be wrong, he couldn’t have lost fifteen minutes, an hour, two hours so easily. Instead he turned his whole focus on spotting that green tie among the crowd, he had already lost track of what mask the District Attorney was wearing now—

But he did recognize that white cat mask, even from this far away.

“Mark, please, just calm down,” Marvin was saying to the man in the white jacket embroidered with flowers who had his back to Mark. “You’re starting to scare some of the other guests.”

“Yeah, you should really calm down, _Mark_,” Mark said, putting a hand down hard on Dark’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Says the actor.” Dark slapped Mark’s hand away without even looking at him. “And do not tell me to calm down, magician.”

“Wait, Dark?” Marvin looked him up and down, taking in Mark’s jacket and the near identical mask. “Wow, you two have some serious issues you need to work out.”

“I’m not the one with the problem here,” Mark said.

“Debatable.”

Dark scowled at the both of them and grabbed a nearby ego at random with the command, “You. Switch jackets with me, now.”

“O-okay,” Eric said, mumbling questions to himself but doing as he was told all the same.

“There,” Dark said while Marvin gave an approving nod to how the flower jacket suited Eric. “Because that is _apparently _more important than finding Y/N right now.”

“Do you know where they are?” Mark asked and the magician took a swift step back at the intensity of his voice.

“I, uh…”

“You’re not foolish enough to _not_ keep an eye on them,” Dark said, moving closer to the magician as he lowered his voice. “Are you?”

Marvin hesitated and all three were distracted by Bing’s voice over the speakers.

“Sah, dudes! We have just enough time for one more song tonight—” Bing paused and let the disappointed voices die out before he continued, “But I think you’ll like this one.”

He pressed a button and the queued-up song began to play. It had seemed like a good idea when Amy suggested it days ago, but now Mark wished for anything else as the duet began to play.

_Remember me, though I have to say goodbye_

The response from the crowd was immediate as the ukulele started, but Mark and Dark turned on Marvin with a new urgency.

“Fine,” he said, if only because he knew it was too late to matter anymore. He pressed a hand to his cat mask and his left eye suddenly took on a green gleam, the same gleam that appeared in the left eye of the cat pin he gave you at the start of the masquerade.

_Recu_ _érdame, si en tu mente vivo estoy_

_Recu_ _érdame, mis suenos yo te doy_

After a moment that seemed to last an eternity he said, “They’re outside, on the balcony. Looking at the stars I think.”

_Te llevo en mi coraz_ _ón y te acompa_ _ñer_ _é_

Mark turned and immediately started to run toward the glass doors, ready to force his way past friends holding each other and singing along to the upbeat, bouncing music.

Dark muttered something under his breath and ran after him, catching his arm before he could waste any more time. With a surge of his aura they disappeared into the darkness, only to reappear at the glass doors on the other side of the room.

Mark stumbled to regain his balance and together they thrust open the double doors and ran out onto the balcony just as the District Attorney jumped and turned around at the sound, their hand still holding the tie that now hung loose around their neck. For just a moment, as the music suddenly fell away behind them and as the clock struck midnight, the District Attorney locked eyes with both of them and gave them a soft, sad smile.

_Remember me, for I will soon be gone_

And with that, the spell ended. The District Attorney blinked and it was you who opened your eyes, who found yourself standing on the balcony, who came to just in time to see Mark and Dark both staring at you as they realized what just happened, neither one able to hide their identical reactions of relief.

And disappointment.

* * *

“Come in,” Dark called when he heard the knock at his office door. Too late he remembered that most of the egos were still sleeping off staying behind to clean up on top of last night’s party and the only ones who would have the energy to be up and moving around wouldn’t have bothered with knocking.

“I just want to talk,” Mark said when Dark’s aura flared around him. It could have been the effort of keeping it in check for so long last night, but Mark didn’t think that was the only reason Dark’s aura seemed darker and more…active than usual. Even as he waved Mark in and sat back in his chair, an afterimage snarled in his direction over the sound of creaking and twisting wood.

At least, until Mark asked, “Have you seen them? Since…”

Dark’s aura froze and contracted until it could barely be seen, its sudden disappearance more unnerving than its presence as Dark answered without emotion, “No, I have not. They must still be with the Septics.”

After they found you on the balcony last night, after they realized that the District Attorney was gone again without a word, neither Mark nor Dark could bring themselves to say anything. While the music slowed and the song came to an end, the three of you just stared at each other, the silence saying more than any of you could or wanted to.

Until the noise from inside caught up with you. Voices calling for Mark were just background noise until Amy poked her head out and told him he needed to get on stage and help Jack wrap up the evening. Reluctantly, or perhaps not too reluctantly, Mark allowed himself to be pulled away. Dark had no time to recover or say anything before you brushed past him, pressing the green tie into his chest like you didn’t even want to look at it anymore on your way to where Marvin was waiting with the Host.

Without waiting for an explanation, the magician pulled you into a hug and you both disappeared. The rest of the Septic egos soon followed once the party was officially over, with most of the Iplier egos assuming you had just decided to spend the night with them.

“I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t want to come back,” Mark said now, his face clouded as he sank into the chair opposite Dark’s desk. “How much…how much do you think they remember from last night?”

“We could go over there right now and get them, we could force the magician to—” Dark stopped, his eyes lingering on the green tie lying on his desk next to the sun mask the District Attorney had left with him. To do what, exactly?

“We can’t force them to come back here,” Mark said. “We should…”

He trailed off, aware that he was about to suggest the exact same thing the Host had about the DA: Give them some space, let them decide when and if they want to come back.

Mark and Dark sat in silence for over a minute, both wrapped up in their own thoughts until Mark finished, “They’ll come back when they’re ready.”

“Or when they’re sick of the Septics,” Dark added, attempting a smile and failing. “Shouldn’t take too long, even if they have a soft spot for that bunch of—”

_“Don’t,”_ Mark said, with enough force to make even Dark pause.

_“But if it were true?” _you had asked, about the possibility of being the District Attorney’s ego, of being a different person than the one he remembered. Only now, Mark knew it wasn’t you asking. They had wanted to see how he reacted, to make sure you would be okay.

Mark slumped against Dark’s desk, head buried in his arms. “They’re never coming back. We screwed up and now _both _Y/Ns hate us.”

“Drama queen,” Dark muttered as he pulled his papers out of Mark’s reach, but his aura began to spread again, filling the office with distant creaks and whispers too faint to make out. “Y/N—the one from the mirror is…forgiving.”

He had meant to say more, but at the thought his aura darkened, the whispering growing louder now but still impossible for Mark, at least, to make out the individual words.

“Well, aren’t you two some gloomy Guses!”

Mark sat up quickly and turned to face Wilford if only because the last thing he wanted was to have his back to that maniac. Meanwhile, Dark sighed and said, “Come in, Wilford,” like he hadn’t already barged his way into the office without knocking.

“Why the long faces?” Wilford asked as he took a seat on Dark’s desk, ignoring Dark’s scowl as he rescued his coffee cup and could only watch the pens and papers scatter across the surface. “Oh, let me guess, someone hit the sauce a little too hard last night? I do know a few hangover cures, if you need a little help.”

Mark was baffled by the wink Wilford gave him and said, “We’re not hungover, Wilford. I _can’t_ drink, or I’ll die. Remember?”

“And I’m not even sure if I’m capable of getting drunk,” Dark said, although he had considered the option many times over the years, living with the egos. “We were just talking about Y/N.”

“Say, where is that rascal?” Wilford asked. He picked up the sun mask and held it to his face as he added, “I haven’t seen them since I apologized for that whole dance thing last night.”

“You talked to them last night?” Dark asked, exchanging a look with Mark. “How did they seem to you?”

“Oh, about normal I suppose,” Wilford said. For a second, his eyes appeared pink behind the mask. “Didn’t say much. I apologized, they said they would try to forgive me, turned me down when I asked for a second dance. Have to say, I did miss the other Y/N last night.”

They both stared at him and it was Mark who finally broke and asked, “You knew?”

“Knew what?” Wilford asked as he put the mask down.

“You mentioned you missed the ‘other Y/N’ last night,” Dark said patiently, well aware of how easily Wilford’s mind could jump tracks if allowed. “Did you know that was a…different person than the one who has been living with us?”

“Of course! It was pretty obvious, if you know what I mean,” Wilford said. He paused in taking a long sip from Dark’s coffee when he saw the expressions on their faces and rolled his eyes before explaining like he was talking to children, “That Y/N would have hugged me after I apologized, just like they always do. And don’t even get me started on the dancing!”

“Of course,” Mark muttered.

“Be that as it may, Y/N is…staying over with the Septic egos for now,” Dark said. “We have, apparently, decided to give them some space until they are ready to come back.”

Wilford nodded along at Dark’s words. “Got it. I think I can kill a couple of hours. Hey Mark, my boy, do you want to—"

“No,” Mark answered without even waiting for the rest of that invite. “Wilford, Y/N doesn’t—”

He stopped at the knock on the office door, to which Dark gave a loud sigh at the sight of the two Jims looking in.

“Sure, just come in, let’s see how many people we can stuff in here,” Dark muttered. “And that was a joke Wilford, don’t you dare drag anyone else in here.”

Wilford sat back down on the desk, looking disappointed while Jim leaned toward the other Jim and said, “It’s our lucky day, Jim! They’re all here!”

Dark frowned at the word “all,” and asked, “What do you two want?”

Jim straightened up and said, “We have something for you from Dapper Jim himself!”

Mark stared as the Jim placed a recording device on the desk in between him, Dark, and Wilford. He recognized it from the night before and said, “Wait, are you talking about Jameson? When did he give you this?”

“Our adopted brother from across the pond,” Jim said solemnly as the other Jim nodded. “He gave it to us last night, but we were told to wait until exactly this time in exactly this place to give it to you.”

Dark scowled down at the device. That last part had the Host written all over it, which made him suspicious enough as he pulled off the note taped to it and read aloud, “Play me?”

“If you say so,” Wilford said, already pressing the play button.

_“Is this…Yeah, yeah it’s recording.”_ The voice coming from the device was unmistakable, the recording crisp and clear as the District Attorney said_, “I’ve had so much time to think about what I would say if I saw you all again. Mark. Dark. Wil-Wilford. But I never imagined how hard it would be to look you in the eyes and…”_

There was a long, shuddering sigh before they continued, _“This isn’t the way I planned to do this, but there’s so much I need to say to the three of you while I have the chance. So here goes.”_

They paused to take another breath and Dark paused the recording long enough to toss the Jims out of the office and lock the door behind them. Then, once the three of them were alone and unlikely to be interrupted, Mark restarted the recording. And they listened in silence as the District Attorney poured out their heart on a balcony, alone with the stars and their sometimes rambling thoughts. Not all of those thoughts were kind or warm fuzzy memories, and more than a few were bitter and left more than just a sting in their wake. But they were all honest, all past the point of holding back any more.

Until the District Attorney laughed and said, _“I sound ridiculous…No wonder I can’t figure out how to say all of this.”_

There the recording stopped, leaving Mark, Dark, and Wilford sitting there, staring at the device as though waiting for more.

In the resulting silence, they could hear voices in the hall, including your own hushing the others.

“How was I supposed to know he wasn’t joking about the cat spell?” you asked as you led the way down the hall. “And keep it down, the others—”

You stopped short as the door to Dark’s office shot open and Mark, with the other two right behind him, stared at you.

“S-sorry,” you said, looking away first. Around you the Septic egos moved in just a little closer, Jackieboy Man in particular stepping forward as though to place himself between you and them. “I just needed to pick up some fresh clothes, I didn’t…”

You thought they didn’t want you there, Mark and Dark realized in the same instant. And they wanted nothing more than to show you just how wrong you were about that.

Without bothering with an explanation, all three moved forward and you found yourself being pulled into a tight, desperate hug, their voices mingling and mixing until your cry for help only encouraged the Septic egos to join in, and then more and more of the Iplier egos who had no idea what was going on but weren’t about to pass up an opportunity when they found it outside of their bedroom doors. Struggle as much as you wanted, there was no escaping without acknowledging just how much they all loved you.

Both of you.

_“Is it selfish, to ask them to keep taking care of the other me? That Y/N?” The District Attorney asked the device last night as they sat with their back against the stone wall, eyes on the stars but their hand to their chest. “They don’t remember, not everything, and I think that’s…a gift. As much as they’ve been through, they still have hope. They still have it in them to forgive, to risk second chances. I want to protect them, to keep them as far away from the pain I felt. I want them to have their own second chance, at a life that I just…can’t deal with. Not yet. I can’t even begin to tell these people I barely know how much they all mean to the other me, but I think they might have a small idea already. And as broken as I am, as broken as I make them, I don’t want to lose them or the new memories they’re making with all of you. Even when I’m ‘asleep’ inside of them, I can feel you, all of you, and all of the happiness Y/N feels when they’re with you. It helps me feel less broken, day by day.”_

_The District Attorney laughed and wiped at their eyes before looking for the button to stop the recording._ _“I sound ridiculous…No wonder I can’t figure out how to say all of this.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, for reading.


End file.
